To Build a Home
by sariahbradshaw
Summary: He throws the note into the sea and she waits in a house that was once a home.
1. Chapter 1

The rings weighs his pocket down like a stone, so heavy he's convinced it would drown him if he fell into the depths by the pier.

The idea is not as unappealing as Killian knows it should be.

His longer leather jacket is still no deterrence for the snow, but he merely embraces the cold: feels some level of righteous retribution as it rolls down his neck.

He deserves this, to be standing in the cold as opposed to warm by the fire with Emma. It is nothing compared to the wet shine of her eyes, the hesitant step back from him, the way her voice rose and broke when she discovered the dreamcatcher.

Sodding coward. He nearly made her cry.

His fingers fumble in his pocket, thumb circling between the ring and the note he wrote and rewrote, revised and trashed until its crinkled and bears wet spots from his tears.

 _I'm sorry. I love you_. None of it seemed enough. The words seem superfluous but Killian needs her to know that no matter what has been exchanged between them:

 _I will return_. It's the most important phrase. He may need to leave to find himself but he will not have Emma think he has left her liked everyone else. He needs her to know that he simply needs to find himself again before returning but that _he will return_.

Now, he's just not sure how to give it to her. Depositing it in the mailbox seems like another act of supreme cowl but he doesn't know if he has the right to enter their home again as he is, even to drop it at the table.

Shame drips through him, making him shiver as he crinkles the paper again.

 _Arsehole_.

"Killian!" Her mother's voice wakes him from his pondering, her eyes full of joy and it makes his head spin, that kind of happiness existing when his sorrow seems boundless.

Snow's babbling on about Regina, asking after Emma. He can barely keep up with the conversation, everything muted and fuzzy but then he hears the paper wrinkle in his pocket again.

He can give it to her. In fact, he should give it to her. He should tell Snow what he's done to her family and send her and the note to Swan so at least she's not alone when she reads it. She'll hate him: for her husband and her daughter, but at least Emma will have _someone_.

Plan established, Killian has the note half-drawn out of his pocket when he registers exactly what he is being told.

"...finally got her happy ending-love-I'm so happy for you both."

The Queen. The evil, black-hearted queen found redemption. His hand pauses and he's still long enough for Snow to reach over and kiss his cheek in a gesture so welcoming it makes him blink against sudden moisture in his eyes. He is so desperately undeserving of it.

But the Queen-if the Queen could start anew…

He shoves the note back in his pocket, trying to smile at Emma's mother before she walks away from the chill of the note. Renewed determination fills his spine, making him stand tall.

No. He will not leave Emma. He does not need to go find himself, he needs to stay and follow her here, where she can find him. His feet turn, bag thrown over his shoulder and Killian makes two steps towards the house, their house before he faults.

Damnation. Nemo is waiting for him. The Captain has been too good a friend for him not to at least let him depart on time. He will go, say his piece, and return home.

The decision solidifies his muscles, warms his blood against the cold as his boots fall heavy on the pier. He pulls the ring out, clutching it in his hand before retrieving the note and throwing it into the water.

No more running. Come hell or highwater, he is staying with Emma.

His stomach sinks with the submarine, a thousand thoughts whirling together at one.

He's going to hurt her. That bloody bastard has sent him away so he can go after Emma. Fear turns his blood to slush, makes his chest hurt when it pulls even as rage falls over his eyes. Will he strike at their house? Is he going to pose as Killian to get close to her? Wait till she's asleep and slit her throat?

Belle's babe or no, he will kill Gideon the next time he sees him.

"Killian-" Nemo is calling him, trying to reach him and Killian looks down to see his hand is clenched so hard he's drawing his own blood.

"Turn it around," He barks, need to protect Swan clawing at his insides. "Get us back up, now!"

Gray-sweatered technicians are whirring around him, muttering things about busted control panels and unclosed portal doors.

The Captain gives him a soft look. "I'm sorry Killian. The Nautilus isn't under our control anymore."

"Well then get it under your damn control!" He's shouting and he knows it's unfair, that none of this is Nemo's fault but that man is going to try to kill Emma and he isn't there.

"Hey," Liam steps before Nemo, raising his voice in return. "It's not his fault!"

Killian barks, nearly foaming at the mouth as Nemo pulls Liam aside, calming the lad and sending him away. He wants to rip something, tear the belly of this vessel until he can swim back to Emma.

There's an explosion of steam. Shouts in a foreign tongue. Tools are clanking and they rock hard, sending Killian skidding to the side. A portal, he knows distantly. They are going through a portal and he won't be able to-

A sick, terrible thought wells up in him so suddenly that Killian staggers, bracing himself against the wall and breathing through his nose to keep his guts from spilling.

The note.

He threw away the note.

No. No. No. No. She doesn't know. He was going back. He was always coming back.

But now he's left in the middle of the night with no word. Killian feels his heart thundering through his ribs, an angry wasp beating. Swan must know. He died for her and she went to the Underworld for him, and she must know that he'd never abandon her, right? But he sees the fall of her face, the immense burden of the ring handed back to him.

He breathes against the panic closing his throat. She'll think something has happened, first. Swan is clever and there's a madman on the loose. She'll worry and search and-

And what, Hook's voice snarks in his mind. Turn up nothing but her mother saying he was last spotted on the docks with a satchel over his shoulder? Learn that his one friend in this town conveniently departed the night he disappeared? And his witness-his witness will spread any lie he can to weaken her, to make her feel alone.

"Killian," Nemo places a hand on his shoulder and it burns, straight through him, forcing him to his knees. The good captain follows, pressing so Killian doesn't fall over.

Bloody fuck. That house. That house that is so warm when it is theirs is too much alone. He remembers when Emma was gone, how he stayed one night there for Henry's sake. But the empty creaking of the floorboards and the faded smell of her scent in their sheets taunted him. The way the wind blew through the bay windows simply highlighted the lack of her form beside him, humming in her sleep.

He'd sent the lad to Regina's and returned to his ship, where at least he was familiar with the lack of company.

Seven hells, she'll be returning there. To that too-big, too-silent house and keep the damned porch light on for him the way she does. She'll stay up as long as she can waiting for him until a pathetic excuse for sleep comes over her. Emma will search and worry and find nothing and her eyes-those beautiful, storm green eyes of her when he left weren't the Saviour's or the Sheriff's, or the powerful woman's who has fleeced him with his own loaded die.

They were the lost girl's. The wide, heartbroken set of the little girl who was shuffled from homes, who was left by every man, who-

Nemo forces his head up and Killian meets his gaze as dread unfurls in his gut. "She doesn't know-"

It's all he gets out before he pitches to the side and upheaves the contents of his insides.

* * *

At first, she's terrified. She knows that Hook's upset with her but it's below freezing outside and he isn't answering his phone.

He always picks up. Unless he's cursed or sucked into another universe or dying in some ditch-

She makes it two hours before she locks the door and pulls the bug out. Trying to stem the panic, she checks his usual spots. The docks. His ship. Granny's. The Rabbit Hole. The sheriff's station. No one has seen him for hours.

By two a.m. she wakes her father, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth as she explains that Killian has gone missing.

He drops her mother and baby brother off at Regina's and joins her in the squad car. They search the woods. Town line. Gold's shop. Archie's office.

By three, Emma's twitching every time the radio cracks and Regina calls, quietly saying that the locator spell failed.

Her heart studs. The implications are left unsaid.

But she refuses to believe that they've fought so hard for each other to lose now. Maybe Gideon has cast some cloaking spell. Maybe he's hurt, beaten and battered and just waiting, trusting in her to find him.

Regina says nothing to this but simply agrees to keep trying and asks for David again. Emma knows they're talking about her when her father gives her a sorrowful, side-eye as she stomps through the graveyard, brushing aside branches with frozen fingers.

It's 4:06 a.m. when her father's hand falls, warm and heavy on her shoulder. "Sweetheart-"

She bites her lip, refusing to look at his face which she knows will be drawn pale, blue eyes sagging. "No-" Her hands dig into the earth as if she can simply force the pirate into her grasp. "I'm not giving up on him. We have to-David, he's got to be here somewhere."

His sigh makes her pulse slow, her chin wobble. "Emma, it's freezing outside. We need to-"

She turns on him, heel sharp in the frozen dirt and hair whipping in dischord. "No! He's out there somewhere. Aren't you two 'mates' or some shit?! How can you give up on him? How can you-dad-daddy, he has to...he can't…"

Her tears fall, half-frozen and unbidden down her cheeks. She swipes at them furiously, her hands shaking, unable to form words pass the sob that rises out of her mouth.

Everything is suddenly very warm, a gentle pressure at the back of her head and the smell of pine and sugar cookies invades her senses. Her arms slide limp, tears spilling now into the soft green wool of her father's sweater.

"I know sweetheart. I know." And it's the sorrow in his voice, the smell of water from his eyes, that makes her slump against him until he herds her back home.

She falls into a restless doze on her parent's couch and wakes up to a pile of pancakes her father must have made, and real, straight-from-chocolate cocoa with double servings of whipped cream from her mother, with said woman kneeling before her with wide, crying eyes.

She wants to upend the table for a moment. Emma loves her parents but if they think sugar is going to make her forget that her True Love has seemingly vanished from thin air-

"Emma," Her mother says, her voice wobbling and wet. She sets a gentle hand on her knee and Emma has to resist the urge to toss it off. "There's something I need to tell you."

At first, it doesn't register.

Hook was by the docks, backpack thrown over his shoulder, new coat to withstand harsher temperatures. Nemo's sub departed last night.

Her soul rebels because Killian's done a lot of fucked up shit in his life but it literally took death for him to leave her. He somehow found in her New York fucking City of all places, he would never-

The ring. The gleam that once caught her eye making them burn and her toes tingle with fury. The way he tripped over the word 'bear', the trembling of his entire body as he stood before her, nearly swaying into her space, the open, silent mouth once she handed the ring back.

She'd been angry but she loves him and Emma has to swallow because suddenly she's not sure Hook knew that. She's not the only one with enough baggage to fill up an airport. She knows she's not an easy person to love, knows that even without the murder of David's father, he was nervous about proposing. She would have made him nervous, the prickly woman with a thousand walls and fear of commitment. Kilian carries his own doubts and what did she do after he worked up the courage to put his ass on the line?

Hand him the ring back.

She lies back as her mother keeps babbling, talking about toe nail polishes and red wine nights and-

"You're so afraid of losing the people that you love, that you push them away. That's why you'll always be an orphan."

Emma sits up from the couch, getting her feet solid on the ground and tossing a quick, "raincheck" back to her mother as she leaves. She can't be here, with a Fairy Tale Princess married to Prince Charming.

She needs-well not rum. Tequila, perhaps. And lots of it.

Because Emma Swan is almost certain she sent the best man she's ever met packing.

* * *

She remembers now why she always preferred cities to small towns: gossip.

By the time she reaches the Rabbit Hole, the whole town must be aware of the departure of her live-in pirate because the bartender doesn't ask for cash before pouring her shot after shot and Ruby shows up after the first hour with a murderous grin.

Emma lifts one eye. She was getting drunk, not stupid. "My mom send you?"

Red grins, sliding in beside her in a snug leather skirt and painfully low-cut top. Her long, painted fingernails drilled on her glass as the bartender handed her a cocktail without flinching. "Hmm? Well apparently Regina suggested to Snow that you might need a less...aggressive drinking buddy."

Her fingers freeze on the shot, now fulling turning to Ruby. "You were less aggressive?" She likes Ruby, she really does. But she's also had to threaten to arrest her for public indecency when she finds a conquest-or found. All of that was prior to Dorothy. Ruby's True Love.

Emma scowls and downs the shot, gesturing for another.

Red shrugs. "Snow was making new arrows when I got there. Charming looked scared. I'd suggest selling his beautiful man-whore body before tearing it apart and thus, less aggressive. Really, I think my rep is taking a hit with all this."

She snorts but doesn't shoo Ruby away. She is a good drinking buddy when you're in the mood to-well, when you're in the kind of mood Emma is in.

She orders a beer to mix up the tequila but even the alcohol doesn't make it go unnoticed to Emma that her parents sent not only a decent friend, but a rather fierce wolf to go drink with her.

Because, you know, death via infant-turned-homicidal-maniac doesn't wait for heartbreak.

Emma scowls again. She orders the rest of the bottle to go.

* * *

He sleeps for long hours but wakes up dizzy and gutted. In his waking hours, he goes from brooding and lethargic and vicious and pent-up so swift even the sickeningly sweet mermaid who once rescued his sorry arse is starting to get fed up with him.

But he's 20,000 leagues below the sea in the wrong realm with no hope of return in sight and at least when he's asleep, he can dream of her. He dreams of the way her hair shimmers, a messy pool of gold against his nose in the morning. The way her entire being lit up after he successfully mastered a modern kitchen and surprised her with dinner on the table when she came home. The faint smell of lilac and the delicious, honeysuckle taste between her thighs. He wakes up trembling with longing from those dreams.

 _He pulls his mouth from in between her legs, unable to resist one last, gentle suckle of her clit before he moves, causing her to shiver and groan with sensitivity until he grins against her belly. Killian pulls himself upward, draping himself across her form until he can rub his nose against hers, wait for her eyes to open again._

 _Her breasts cant up to his chest with her heavy pants and Emma opens her eyes lazily, dark with desire and satiation. She pats him weakly on the shoulder with one hand._

 _"Good show Cap'n."_

 _He chuckles lightly, dipping down to nip at her lips and Emma bends her knees, causing his weeping cock to rub against her hip. He groans against her mouth, arms tense with unslaked need._

 _"Swan-"_

 _She grins against his mouth, opening wide to devour him and shifting so he's held in the cradle of her thighs, thrusting weekly against her warmth. "Gods-bloody hell Swan, give a man a minute."_

 _Her giggle tinkles in the air and Killian would bottle it if he could, light his lanterns with the sound like fay light. She reaches further to scratch at the base of his neck, smooth the sweaty hair off his forehead only for it to fall back again._

 _Warmth suffuses through his limbs at the pout she makes to the unruly locks and he's half-forgotten why he's slowed them. There was something he was to ask-_

 _His hips move against her again and it clicks. Ah, yes, that was it._

 _"Love, I went to see Whale last week."_

 _Emma arches her brows at him and Killian bites his lips because yes, he could have started that smoother. But how the bloody hell was he supposed to speak when she was so hot and wet, just inches from where he ached._

 _"I went to get that test-oh fuck Emma-" She choose that moment to roll her hips up against his and he has to grab her hip and pant hard into her neck to keep his thoughts from obliterating._

 _Swan looks innocently at him and he pinches her side lightly in retort because this was important to her. He breaths. "That rest you told me about. I have the results if you'd like to see but the doctor told me I had a bill of clean health."_

 _Emma's cheshire grin fades slightly and she blinks as she realizes that he's talking about the STD panel she insisted he get before they forewent condoms. She leans back against the headrest to sit up and he whines at the loss of heat. She trusts Killian implicitly but her fingers shake slightly and she meets his concerned gaze. "Can I see it?"_

 _He nods, sliding off her in a flash and treading around his rented room nude for the form, reaching into the drawers to snatch the confusing document up and race back to her._

 _She takes it from him and while he wants to bury himself back into her flesh, Killian leans by her side as her eyes skim the documents. She's much more serious than just a moment ago and he's already regretting bringing it up because the sheaths are hardly a steep price to pay to be inside her. The thought of nothing though-of just his bare flesh against hers-it made him dizzy with desire and now he's afraid he's made a muck of things._

 _Swan nods, setting the paper back on Granny's end table and focusing her gaze back to him. "Did you-do you want to see mine?"_

 _He shakes his head easily. "I trust you Swan."_

 _She swallows. "You know-you know asking you to do that isn't because I don't trust you."_

 _He smiles at her, resting his bare wrist to her ribs in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. "Aye love."_

 _Emma nods again, almost to herself. "So you-you want to stop using condoms?"_

 _There's a tensing in her voice that has his brow furrowing, the need to comfort rising over the need to ravish. "Swan, if you're not comfortable with this-"_

 _She shakes her head so fast her hair flies, smacking him in the cheek. "No-No, I am."_

 _She slides back down the bed, spreading her knees again in invitation but there's a stiffness to her that wasn't there before. "Just-you know, go for it."_

 _Killian scoffs at the lackluster invitation and feels his erection wean slightly. "Emma,"_

 _She rolls his eyes, grabbing his cock in a move that causes him to let out a harsh swear. "Jesus, Hook just-there."_

 _Her hand guides him in, hips pressing against him until he can do nothing but push forward, bury himself in nothing but the mind-boggling clench that is Emma Swan in the altogether. A groan pulls from deep within his chest and he's lost, thrusting deep inside her wetness and bottoming out until nothing else exists. Nothing but the rippling contractions of her quim and the wet glistening of his cock as he pulls and pushes back in._

 _He's murmuring nonsense in her ear, totally lost above her until he thinks to turn his gaze from where they are joined and look into-_

 _A carefully blank expression._

 _He can't resist the next two thrusts inside, the call of her body too strong. He manages to pull out the third though, reaching for the threads of his sanity, "Love, what?"_

 _She's got him on his back and in her mouth before he can finish that sentence and Killian growls, neck straining as she takes him deep without respite._

 _"Swan-Swan-seven hells, bloody buggering fuck, Emma-I can't-" She hums around him, squeezing him into her throat and he comes, long and thick pulses between her lips until she releases him, spent across the bedsheets._

 _He has to take several long minutes to collect himself from the powerful orgasms but Emma has yet to move closer to him and the image of her constructed facade niggles at the back of his mind._

 _That was not what he wanted his lover to look like when he was inside her, thank you very much._

 _He removes his arm from across his face, scrubbing down before turning towards her half-curled form and reaching out a tentative hand._

 _Swan doesn't retract from the touch and so Killian pushes. "Darling, what was it?"_

 _She turns red-faced for a moment and looks away, but follows his gentle nudges easily enough so he can wrap his bad arm around her and kiss her collar gently. She smiles at the gesture, but her eyes go far-off despite how close her body is._

 _"It was Neal last time that I-ah, yeah." She makes a broad gesture down her body still red-faced and Killian feels a gut-pulling mixture of jealousy, guilt, and sorrow ripple through him. "So, um-I just, there are just some bad memory associated, you know?"_

 _He'd give his other arm to know because Emma looks fairly uncomfortable and he can feel the tension in her spine but he's trying to piece together what she means. He suspects she's referring to not using the sheaths in some conjecture, but he knows she takes some other form of contraceptive to keep from carrying a child and the sheaths hardly added anything to acts of intimacy, unless he hadn't discovered something._

 _She looks back down at him and sighs at his perplexed expression, shifting so her back is firm against his chest but she's facing away from him. "Look, Killian how...how much do you know about Henry and everything?"_

 _Her shift surprises him somewhat but he does his best to mask it. "I'm aware that Bae-Neal was the lad's father. You believed he perished before Neverland...did perish in service to you and your boy after we returned to New York."_

 _He forces his own body not to tense as the unpleasant memories surface. Swan's already wound up enough for the both of them and he needs to understand what went wrong in their lovemaking if only to ensure that such an error never occurs again. He feels Emma huff beside him, taking a long pause before continuing._

 _"Henry didn't...he didn't lose memories of Neal because of New York. They didn't know each other very long."_

 _Killian blinked at that knowledge. He knew the lad spoke very little of his father, and Emma and Bae were reunited in New York, which seemed to imply a separation but-_

 _"I was… I was young when I had Henry. Neal and I were living on the streets. Stealing to get by. We weren't always….condoms were expensive when we couldn't find a free clinic or a school drive or whatever but I figured that at least any kid we had would be...loved, you know?"_

 _He pulls her tighter against him, trying to anchor her in the present as he feels the past drag her down, tugging at her very flesh as he fights to keep her safe. "Aye Swan, you're a great mother."_

 _The laugh she gives is short and makes lead slide down his stomach._

 _"Yeah, mom of the fucking year. Neal pulled a job and I went to pick up so he wouldn't get caught. August got to him first and told him about my destiny and the curse, so instead of meeting Neal, I found cops waiting for me at the drop-off point."_

 _Hate fills his body so rapidly he has to bite his nails into Emma's hip to keep from shouting because no. Baelfire would not-_

 _"So, I went to prison. Found out I was pregnant in there. I couldn't… that it would be best if someone else took 'em. Never looked back. Henry found me a few years back but ah-don't think I'm winning a parenting award any time soon." She forces the words out through her teeth, as if she can bite down on the pain they cause._

 _Killian doesn't think she realizes it, but she has one hand protectively low on her abdomen, the other tensed against the sheet and he feels a murderous rage swell up in him for a dead man._

 _He knew that Bae and Swan had a falling about, but for him to leave her in the brig with his child…_

 _Thank the gods he was already dead. Milah would be disappointed if he slaughtered her only son._

 _Emma shrugged, still keeping her face from view. "Anyways, that was the last time I went without like a zillion forms of contraceptive and it' just...shit, I just don't want you to think me being all fucked up has anything to do with you, okay?"_

 _There are a million words biting to tumble from his mouth. Something wrong with her? For loving her child enough to want a better life for him? For returning when she feared for his safety? For loving a man who he has now deemed unworthy to lick her boots? But Emma is Emma and she can't even hear him say I love you yet so instead he inhales deeply, forcing the thoughts down until he can drown them out with rum and possibly go decimate a grave (and a puppet)._

 _"Swan, being with you easily a most enjoyable activity and I have no problem with the sheaths, as I have mentioned to you. It might help my reputation, to be honest." She chuckles at that and he considers it a prize, the retrieval of her smile from the painful memories. "And I will never push and never ask but Emma there is one thing you need to know-"_

 _He draws his hand down to encapsulate hers across her belly, catching her fingers before they could flit away and drawing soft designs on the faint marks her body bore to bring Henry life. "I will never willingly leave you. And if...if you did end with child-"_

 _She jerks against him but he barrels forward because Swan needs to have this truth. He can't bare for even the slightest inkling of that fear to rest in her heart. "-Emma, I would never leave you or a babe. Though I'm not sure how handy a one-handed father may be, you would both always have me, understand?"_

 _She's silent for a long time but Killian hears the faint sniffles and so he waits, lightly caressing her as she rectifies the history with her present. He presses his lips to the bath of her neck, simply resting warmly there until she reaches back with their joined hands and squeezes him in gratitude._

 _"Never," He lulls her to sleep. "I will never leave you."_

The dream departs as suddenly as it came and Hook bolts upright with a vengeance, soaked in sweat and feeling as if he's taking in water instead of air. He brushes his hair out of his face roughly, swallowing as the memory fades. His clothes are soiled and loathing rolls into him so deeply that he wants to gut himself with his own hook.

"Hook-" Which is the precise moment Princess Jasmine walks in. Just marvelous.

The princess puts her hands on her hips, her doe-like eyes turning into slits as she kicks him. "Enough. Aladdin, Ariel, Nemo, and I have been working night and day trying to find a way for you to return to your True Love. If I didn't owe Emma so much, I wouldn't have bothered. Now get your sorry hide upstairs and come help us or so help me I'll return you to Storybrooke as a rug!"

The weight of the dream presses down on him and Killian stands, snarling. "You don't understand. She thinks I left her. Emma is-she is a bloody magical princess but you cannot leave her." He stresses the last words because the only thing worse than fearing what Gideon is doing to her is knowing what loneliness does to Swan.

However, Jasmine is neither as kind as Ariel or as patient as Nemo. She simply kicks him. Again. "Then. Get. Back. To. Her. Because no matter how bad it is now, it will be ten times worse if you go and die again. Or what, are you willing to mope until Gideon takes another swing at her and simply kills her first?"

He has the princess up against the wall with his hook before he can register the movement, his whole being protesting the idea of Emma Swan perishing. "No!"

Jasmine's eyes widened with fear but before they can move Liam comes running down the hatch, screaming.

"Kraken! Kraken attacking. All hands above ship. Kraken!"

Hissing, Killian releasing the princess and stalks after him, grabbing his cutlass and pistol on the way to the shaft.

The damned sea monster doesn't stand a chance. He is getting back to Emma.

* * *

She doesn't drink, not really, after that first night but the way it feels like half her heart has thawed is worse. She refuses her mother's offers (bribes, please) to come back to the loft out of sheer stubbornness (and because between her Snow's threats of violence and David's lost look it's unbearable to be around them) but she can't sleep in the house, the house that he picked out for them and where they made love on the couch and fucked in the kitchen.

(When Henry found the spilled pancake batter he had looked up, opened his mouth to asked, pointedly eyed both of their disheveled hair, shut his mouth, glared and walked out the door with an indignant cry of, "Sanitize.")

Emma doesn't start a fire despite how damn cold she is all the time. She doesn't want to touch his things, but she has to hide the leather jacket and a few familiar earrings in a box in the closet because her eyes sting whenever she sees them.

She works longer hours at the sheriff's station and drives the bug long into the night, simply circling around (looking for Gideon, she'll say).

It's not that her existence is empty. Despite the violence and the bromance break-up, she loves her parents. She actually enjoys the company of Ruby and Ashley and she likes her work to protect the town. Plus, there's you know, her first (and only perhaps) True Love still here.

Talking to Henry was the worst though.

He listened to Regina for two days before he overruled her and showed up at the house and simply sat beside Emma while she pretended to be interested in Netflix for about thirty-five minutes before speaking.

"Are you sure he left, mom?"

His voice sounded younger and Emma had to fight against the wobbling of her chin, staring at her laptop as she pat his head. "Yeah kid. I...we got into an argument. I think I ah-I think I really hurt him."

It's the first time she's said it out loud. The whole town is convinced that Hook's an asshole who left when Emma found out about his crimes against her grandfather but only she knows the truth.

She broke his heart.

His too good to be true, fragile heart.

Henry nodded slowly. "Because you know...he spent like hours picking out that ring and I had to drag him away from Happy when he suggested that anything was fine."

That got her to turn, switching the laptop closed. "Wait, what-"

Henry shrugged, staring into the empty cup of cocoa. "Yeah. He's had it for awhile."

"But he," She felt dizzy. "He-you went with him?"

Henry played with his spoon. "He ah-Hook said that he wanted David's blessing but he needed my permission to ask you. Something about me being your 'Truest' love or something. You know, dramatic Killian."

She can't talk for a moment. Can't open her mouth because not only has she destroyed her happy ending in a moment of anger, but she had taken the best father figure her son had ever had away too. Because of course Henry was the first to know. Killian loved him too.

"I just, I think he loves you a lot mom. That's all." He finished quietly.

Emma pulled her son, her beautiful almost grown-up boy in her arms and blinked at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. "Yeah...sorry kid. Yeah."

Belle intervened. Ashley intervened. She's half tempted to post a poll pro vs. anti Jones up just to read the numbers so she can actualize what a shitty, shitty mistake she made.

Then she got the call.

It was David.

"Emma-" He sounds winded, elated and desperate. "It's-He's-the docks. Come to the docks."

And she would have. If, you know, she hadn't been fighting for her life just then.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry is wondering, not for the first time, if he is the only sane person left in this town.

(And really, last time he thought that, he had totally been right. Cursed and all.)

Emma, okay, he kinda gets why his mom believes Hook left. He's picked up bits and pieces from the way she looks as Neal sometimes, from the way she still shies away from talks of families and capital 'T' True Love. He remembers the way Emma had been devoted to finding a way to spare Hansel and Gretel from the system, recalls odd-bits Regina had said through the years about 'the system' and 'useless social workers'. More than that, there's the time he spent in Neverland, Pan trying his best to convince he he was unwanted, unloved, totally separated from anyone who would fight for him. He has some sort of nebulous understanding of the kind of childhood his mother had, from the traumas that tend to evolve from such situations.

("So after you get married, are you still going to call her 'Swan'? Because, you know she'd be a Jones then." Henry asked more to keep Hook from punching the third jewelry shop opener of the day and distract him while he fumbled apologies to unsuspecting pedestrians in Boston.

They'd traveled to New York last weekend but after an unfortunate shop owner made a rude comment about exactly why Emma may have been interested in Killian after the pricing had been set, Henry figured a new city had been in order. He was also fairly convinced that Killian's face was all over some wanted posters in Queens for assault, so...Boston.

The pirate was still muttering under his breath but paused at the question, scratching behind his ear. "Er...lad, you know she could very well refuse. Your mother...well I love your mother more than life itself but she doesn't take too well to change."

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely. "Yeah, the whole going to the Underbrooke for you meant nothing, I'm sure."

Oh God. Hook was blushing. Adults were so stupid. "If you..ah...that's...I appreciate the vote of confidence Henry. And your...your corroboration with all of this."

He made a wide hand-gesture and purposefully stepped a little faster, turning so Henry couldn't see his face.

Loser. Henry did roll his eyes this time. "Yeah, I forgot I hate you so much. It's why, you know, I went with my mom to Underbrooke."

Killian chuckled, shooting Henry one of those proud, awe-struck looks that made him want to shuffle his feet and duck. "Ah, I suppose I must extend my gratitude for that as well lad. As for your first question, I'm quite fond of the moniker Swan and I suspect she may be too. I'll let Emma decide on her name as she likes"

He nodded, grabbing the man's jacket to keep him from running into traffic...for the seventh time today and guiding them to the next listed shop. "Ah, Jones is a little common but I don't think mom will really have problem with it...what?"

Killian had made a jerky move, some sort of aborted attempt to scratch behind his ear with Henry still latched onto his sleeve. Seriously, how on earth had he survived all those years of villainy? A teenager could learn his tells. "It's nothing, lad. Now, shall we be headed to Shreve Crumpfellow or DePrisco?"

"Crump and Low, and what-Killian? What don't I know?" He ducked them into one of the numerous Haymarket alleys, turning to face his soon-to-be-stepfather (weird thought) and looked expectantly.

He was raised by two women with the most bad-ass 'no-bullshit' faces. Hook was screwed. The pirate shrugged, not quite meeting his eye. "It's not really my place to say Henry...but your mother had more than one opportunity to take her surname from someone else and choose to create one for herself. I believe it is something she desires and I have no wish to take it from her."

More than one...he vaguely recalled Emma yelling at him when she first returned him to Storybrooke, years ago. Something about how at least Regina wanted him...a family that returned her. Something unfamiliar twisted in his gut not as he recalled the wild look in his mother's eyes from that moment. "So you...you think that she's still afraid you'll leave her and that's why she won't change her name? Hook, you came back to life for her. You guys are 'True Love', and like, totally gross most of the time even if you try to hide it. I mean, that's like saying Grandpa would leave Grandma-"

Henry was starting to babble and he knew it but the weird feeling in his stomach was making him uneasy. His mom was the Saviour. Surely she knew by now that-

"Henry," Killian's voice was lilting as he put a hand on his shoulder, gently drawing Henry from his thoughts. "Your mother is the fiercest, most wonderful woman I have ever met but she is not Snow. She...she did not grow up knowing her parents cared for her and was not...she was not always treated as she should have been. It has made her impossibly strong and kind, but wounds like that...they tend to linger sometimes. And, it should be no surprise to you that I very much love her and simply wish not to cause undue stress with trifling details like surnames."

His churning emotions must have showed on his face because Hook cleared his throat after that and shot him a grin. "Besides, I think Killian Swan would be a delightful name. Now then, how about you show me on your map our next destination, hmm?"

Henry pointed to the shop on the little map he begged Killian not to get, waiting quietly as the pirate figured out the maze of Boston streets and led the way. Something in him wanted to shout at Hook, rebel against the idea that his mother, the real-life Superhero with red leather and magic would be scared of getting married. Like, Emma charged into hell. Slew a dragon. Saved a town. Went to Neverland. For real, what was Killian on?

But as he followed the hard tack sound of metal heel on cobblestone, he also remembered the woman he found with her wild, shiny eyes, screaming at him that at least Regina wanted him. The woman who sat beside him on his castle and feared his rejection. The stranger he never met who ended up in prison. The person who wanted to take him back to New York. The way her hands shook the first time she held him. The way her hands shook now, the visions-

He had the briefest moment of dizziness as he tries to match up those two totally different people and something he read from school floated in his mind. "A typical tool used in coming-of-age novels is the loss or fall of an idolized character...whether by death or the further examining of [said characters] humanity and flaws...such an event causes the protagonist to-"

It was strange, he realized. To reconcile his hero who broke the curse with the woman who wanted to run back to New York. Who Hook feared might need to run at the idea of marriage and forever and happily ever after.

It was weird, to think of his super cool mom as a scared little girl. Unpleasant. Distasteful. Odd-footed.

"Lad," Killian had stopped in front of the store, the vintage facade facing them both as blue eyes looked at him with concern.

It also made him feel oddly protective. "You can't leave her, you know. If...when she agrees to marry you and everything you can't-do you, do you understand?"

Henry wasn't quite sure exactly what he could threaten the much-older pirate with, but he was sure that he could convince David and Gold to help him out if it came to that.

Hook's whole face softened, that rare, proud smile curling at his lips as he clasped around the back of his neck, dragging the teenager to him. "Aye lad. I have no intentions...It would take more than all the monsters in the seven seas to drag me away from your mother-and you."

And Henry, on pain of death, would deny that he cried into Hook's leather jacket in front of that stupid, overpriced store.

Where, of course, they found the perfect ring.)

So like, as uncomfortable as it is, Henry kinda cuts his mom a break when she assumes that the pirate has left because well-trauma and all that.

And he's not even mad at David because finding out your best friend killed your dad has just got to suck. (He doesn't care how much they deny it, they are totally 'mates'.)

But like, grandma? Snow is typically the voice of second-chances and hope and happiness. There are a million strangers in town and some sort of Uber-baby who has said he wants to kill Emma and she thinks that Killian just...got cold feet and left? For real?

His mom's not any help either. Whenever he tries to make Regina see reason he's told that it's complicated or he's too young to understand it to the point that he's rather fed up with everyone.

He says: Hook left his ship.

Grumpy says: Well, he took a sub.

He says: He left Liam's sextant.

Ruby says: He felt too guilty.

He says: Zeus ships them. Like, the god Olympus.

David says: True Love is complicated. Look at your grandmother and myself."

Okay, yeah point to grandpa but he says: You seriously think the evil Uberbaby who wants to hurt Emma didn't do anything to her True Love?

Snow says: Well, it just goes to show how cowardly he really is, running out on Emma at a time like this.

Henry resolves not to talk to them. Okay, he wants to make sure Emma is okay and yeah he still has breakfast with David, but the rest of them get ignored. Because patricide is well...bad but not entirely new to his genealogy now, is it. That and...no way is Hook leaving his ship. If he wasn't in love with his mom Henry is pretty sure he'd find a way to marry the stupid boat.

So really, if he's the last sane person in town: he's just going to put his headphones in and give the stupid adults the silent treatment until they can see reason.

He may or may not sick Archie on them too, not that he's actually angry or anything.

("No one else cares that the literal voice of conscious is Team Hook?"

"Henry-"

"Nevermind, go take Emma to the bar or whatever. It's a stupid idea though and I'm going to the library with Belle." )

He sighs. No one in the town understands the trouble he has to go through to keep his family in check.

Killian owes him a vacation when he gets back.

Everyone on boards has given him a wide berth since slaying the kraken.

Apparently, jumping overboard to stab the mouth of a legendary beast is not a sign indicative to mental well being.

Killian scoffs. His bloodlust was clenched and they were closer to finding a portal. What were they all complaining about?

He leans his head back against the iron curve of the submarine, gritting his teeth when pain reverberated back down his spine. He had glared the Nautilus's medics away and chosen instead to go lick his wounds in peace.

Nothing's permanently out-of-whack, anyway.

He peers down at his hook, wondering if he should grab a beaker when he wipes the aquamarine blood from it just to add those few more drops to the collection.

One third. The damned container was only one third of the way full and there were no new leads on kraken sightings. Ariel having heard of that one had been a bloody miracle in itself.

It's been days. Weeks maybe-time has begun to shift away like it did when he was in Neverland, the heaviness of his soul carrying from one hour to the next. Within the sunless confines of the depths, it was even easier to lose track.

Emma. How long had he been gone to her? Was she still anxious, tearing the town apart looking for him fruitlessly? Or has her long history of abandonment already shifted over her heart, wringing it out so the wide set of their empty bed haunts her as surely as each home she was ousted from as a child? Or maybe...maybe it's been months down here and she has donned her armour again, set back up that impenetrable wall and lit fire in the moats until no one, not even he will ever bring it down again. Accepted her lot to live an existence without love, fighting blindly until she di-

He can't even finish the thought. Killian swallows heavily against the lump in his throat. Weeping will lead him nowhere. He needs to get back to the charts on the table and the logs that designate shipwrecks and hope to the gods that he can find another kraken in some uncharted waters.

He stands again, his legs uncooperative and shaky from lack of sustenance and the fading adrenaline from the fight, but Hook is stubborn. His body will cooperate. He will get back to the Land without Magic, even if only to protect Emma from that monster.

Even if that's all she will let him be to her again.

He grits his teeth, stumbling back to the makeshift desk and drawing out his opisometer again, pen pressed between his teeth as he tries to locate where Blackbeard's logs had entertained the idea of a beast in the water.

He's so focused that he doesn't hear the intruder until she clears her voice.

One can always tell Royal Blood by the sound they came in clearing their throat. A noise that implies impatience with waiting and incredulity that there presence as gone unnoticed so long. Killian almost laughs. Who would have thought he would fall in love with a princess, as idiosyncratic as one as she is.

Jasmine seems to take his lack of reaction to her as acquiescence because she steps into the chamber and primly places her tray down, flicking her braid back. "You know, getting yourself killed isn't going to help Emma."

Apparently, the woman learned nothing from her first encounter with his hook. Killian turned his chin to glare at her from under his lashes. "I suppose it is a good thing my heart's still beating then, aye."

Her clever hands open the various pots and vials on the trail, dipping a clean rag in some pale blue liquid with a woodsy scent. Jasmine seems to just as easily avoid making eye contact with him as well. "Not for lack of trying on your part. You swam out to meet a giant water beast and nearly got your arm gnawed off in the process. It was sheer dumb luck that you managed to pierce its belly before you ended up in it."

Killian shots her a sharp scowl before turning back to his maps and writing the first few coordinates down. Royalty hates to be ignored, he knows. Perhaps he can simply wait the princess out…

He hears Jasmine sigh, placing the wet cloth down for a moment on the lip of a bowl before turning to face him. He feels her stare on his aching shoulder. "I have something for you, gift from Ariel. However, you have to let me dress your wound before I give it to you."

The pen snaps in his hand. He turns a dark gaze on the proud turn of her face. "I am not a dog to be fed scraps for obedience. And if the bloody mermaid wanted something, why are you here in her stead?"

Jasmine meets him head-on despite the dark drawl of his tone, squaring her hips and raising one delicate brow. "I am here because your brooding, turbulent mood was frightened away everyone except for the good Captain and myself. You should be ashamed of yourself, poor Ariel being too afraid to even come to help you."

Guilt pinches between his ribs briefly because he really has cost that girl nothing but pain and still she comes back, again and again to aid him.

It must show on his face because Jasmine's haughty expression lightens, her voice softening some of its anger. "And I don't think you are a dog, Hook. But I do think that you are currently blinded by your dedication to getting back to Emma and may not be seeing reason. Making poor decisions in trying to find your home again," She shrugs, a self-deprecating little smile appearing on her face, "is something I can relate to."

Oh gods, he is a dog. Making the princess come down here to see to him because he's got a foot up his own arse. "Princess-"

She waves a delicate hand. "Jasmine, please. And as I said, I understand. However, the Saviour will be most unhappy I imagine if we return you with one less appendage or as a corpse so please, let me see to your wounds."

He swallows, feeling as cowled by her stern kindness as he had once felt as a boy, under Liam's careful watch. "Aye then, as you say. But-ah, Killian if you would be so kind."

Her face gentles, with a genuine smiled as she sighs dramatically and waved him over to the nearest chair, bringing the tray towards him. Killian makes no fuss when she instructed him to remove his shirt so she could clean the jagged lines of his shoulder, first with the cloth of blue ointment that hissed with disinfectant. He grit his teeth against the pain as she removed the white rag, dipping it in the pot of water to clean it before going for some grimy gray paste.

"Really Killian," Jasmine muses as she works, pressing the paste lightly and precisely over the rather raw cut that goes nearly to bone. "You have only one good one to start. How are you to please the Saviour if you came back, handless, hmm?"

Hook chokes, his whole body jolting and causing her to reprimand him. He turns wild eyes up at her. She did not...she could not have possibly meant what she just said. Jasmine was true-blooded royalty, raised with wealth and decorum and could not have implied-

A tiny smirk tugged at her lips as she washed the cloth again, closing the lid of the gray paste and opening the silver enamel that held strips of bandage, tying one end above his elbow to begin. "Oh please Killian. I'm hardly an innocent."

The pirate suddenly debates the merits of stripping so readily for the woman, but as she winds the bandage up his arm he remembers the pining looks of a certain genie-"Truly, Jasmine? Because Aladdin looks as though he might stake himself for a chance to undertake less innocent encounters with you."

The princess's carmel cheeks redden slightly and she gives a strong tug to tie the bandage off in retaliation, huffing. She pulls away, placing her hands on her slender hips and tapping her foot at him as though evaluating the merits of having him thrown in the dungeon.

Killian just grins. Score one for the pirate.

Jasmine scoffs, throwing her hands in the air and shuffling through the tray again despite the pleased crinkle of her nose. She grasps something in her fist, holding it out for his inspection.

"I don't quite understand it," The princess readily admits. "But Ariel said you would recognize it and that it should work just like the one you had previously, even across realms."

In her tiny palm, there lays a familiar conch shell necklace. A little pinker on the sides then the one he had left back in Storybrooke. In their home. With Emma.

Worthlessness and Elation rise as tides in him in equal measure as she stares between Jasmine's eyes and the necklace. "I-I-I don't know...I'm sorry I've been a blackguard and I don't deserve this but please...tell the mermaid thank you for me, won't you?"

Bloody hell. He had a way to reach Emma.

Jasmine dropped the shell in his greedy hand and simply picked up her tray primly, smoothing her hand back again. "Tell her yourself, pirate. Your plans will bear more fruition if you come up to the common room and allow some more thoughts than your own."

She shoots him another look of false reprimand and Hook is suddenly so grateful for the unlikely, but possibly honest, friend he has found in the desert princess.

(He also has a worrying propensity for woman who deem it appropriate to kick his arse but that is a thought for another day.)

"Jasmine-" He managed to get out before she glides away, head cocked at him expectantly. "Thank you, as well for-all of this."

Killian makes a broad gesture, wanting her to understand it was for more than ensuring he didn't lose a limb to utter stupidity.

For the first time since the Nautilus sunk, Killian Jones has hope.

She gave him a regal nod, regarding him with a fond light. "As you were, Captain. I expect to see you on the upper deck in a bit."

A bit, yes, because first the pirate needed some privacy. He looked back down to the shell cradled gently in his fingers.

Emma.

And she would have heard his voice in that moment, heard him crying out for her from that necklace left on the bureau in their bedroom-

If Snow hadn't snuck in three days ago and surreptitiously moved all his stuff into the garage.

Lifetime insomnia returns to Emma like an old friend.

Both her and Hook always startled awake at the slightest sound until they found themselves curled up together, sleep taking deep hold of their forms once they had the safety and reassuring weight of the other's form beside them.

Now that he's gone it returns and she's grateful for it because when she dreams-

Sometimes its the way the boys would show up after sailing on Sunday, twin tired grins as they shuffled in, smelling of salt with windswept hair and devouring pizza like it was their first meal in days before quickly drifting off to sleep.

It's the way he felt curled up beside her, skin slick in the afterglow and fingers cradling her shoulder even as his shin jerked against her in dream. The way he couldn't stop touching her, even asleep.

She dreams of his smiles. The mischievous waggle every time he replaced a pop-tart with a grapefruit in her hands without her noticing. The open, proud smile when she drank Leroy under the table and he had to half-carry her home. The shy, little embarrassed grin when she introduced him to Ashley's sister as, 'her boyfriend'. The devious, dark smile he wore right before his head disappeared under the covers, tongue curling around sensitive flesh. Licking and devouring until entering. Then lapping and aiming until she would keen and beg and then and only then would he move up to suckle her clit-harshly than soothingly as she came down, protective of her soft places in every act.

She doesn't know if she's imagining it but his things seem to have started to vanish. She can't look to hard into it though, too afraid to find that even the physical reminders of him our vanishing into the night as well.

The sheriff's station has never been so organized. All the paperwork has been digitized and filed. Accounts done and billing processed. Regina had arched an eyebrow and congratulated her on it even with clear consternation in her gaze.

She could fuck off. David had as much of a hand in it as she had.

She spends a night on his ship, afraid to forget the way he smells but wakes to a hundred worried calls and never does it again.

Their bed is too empty though, the house to cold. So when insomnia returns, Emma is thankful for a reason to not be anywhere near the once beautiful Victorian.

Of course, there's Fridays nights now spent with Regina and her mother.

The first time it's under false pretenses but she's too tired to be angry and her mother's a little drunk by the time she gets there so she figures she better stay.

When Snow gets into a bet with some vikings and wins, well she agrees to a Friday night ritual because watching Snow intoxicating is the first thing that's made her laugh in weeks and Henry's reached the age where he seems to crave his time alone with his video games and David's slumbering form. They cause such a fuss that Emma is sudden well acquainted with the bartender, Aesop of all people. Because, of course. But he's kind and never charges her, only says characteristically allegorical things about broken hearts and shoots her pitying looks that aim deep and keep her up late into the night, puzzling over stories.

("She killed him," He finished, wiping a glass clean.

Emma swallowed. "But-but she loved him so why-"

Aesop sighed, giving her that soft smile again. "My dear sheriff, you as well as anyone should know that love wounds as deep as it heals. Passions are always a double-edged sword."

That's the night she stops sleeping.)

Ruby joins them next week, but Snow and Ruby are way too much trouble with liquor involved and her and Regina agree to never try that again.

("You're the sheriff-do something."

"Like what, Regina?! Should I threaten to shot her if she misses the apple and hits Ruby in the-oh god I can't watch."

"I don't know. Cry! You should cry. Snow will put the bow down to come curse you with rainbow hugs or something."

"Ew, no. You stop it-turn her into a frog or something temporarily. Frogs can't use bows."

"...Think we should tell David they kissed on a bet?"

"You know what, I'll tell my dad if you tell Dorothy."

"Right, it never happened then."

"That's what I thought.")

That's the night Aesop tells her the story of the bird who fell in love with the fish.

"But where could they go," He says, handing her another beer without prompting. "The fish belonged the sea and the bird to the sky. Where could they go to be in love?"

Emma swallowed, her surname and Killian's ship coming to mind in sharp relief. Her breathing shallow. "Well..but the bird could land. You know, water birds like...ducks _(not swans, definitely not talking about swans)_ they could meet there."

She doesn't know why she pushes these ridiculous stories about animals but they make her heart shudder and her feet always drag a little heavier whenever she leaves. She still comes back, _masochist_ a hiss in her mind.

Aesop smiles sadly. "But what kind of life is that, Emma? A bird can only land so long before it must leaves again and a fish, a fish will always return to the sea."

Wasn't that one of her fears? One of those unspoken terrors that woke her in the night: that Killian would grow weary of this life and return to the ocean. She remembered the way he would look longingly out the harbor from their bedroom window, eyes filled with longing until he returned to bed.

Was it a stupid dream, that she could be enough for a man who lived centuries at sea?

And her-the girl who runs. Who keeps running. Was she kidding herself with setting down roots here? Was this just another transient stop until she fled?

The third Friday, Snow cries into her cup and blubbers about how much she misses her husband, how hard the curse is. She feels, leaving Regina to tend to her mother as she sits at her seat at the bar. Emma didn't even have to wait for the glass to be presented.

"There once was a lion," He said softly, eyeing her mother from across the bar and placing two stiff cocktails by them before returning to Emma. "Who fell in love with a maiden. He asked her parent's permission to marry her."

Emma's knuckles clenched at the word, 'marry'.

"They said that they feared him and his wicked ways and would only agree to the union if the lion removed his teeth and claws. And the lion was so in love, that he did."

Fuck, that's what she did to Hook, wasn't it? She turned the fearsome pirate to the man who slipped tomatoes in Henry's mac-and-cheese. She thought that she had changed him for the better, given him a purpose beyound revenge but what if she had simply made him softer. More prone to be injured. The pressure of her parent's perfect love. Pressure of being the Saviour's lover in this town.

Fuck, no wonder he hadn't run sooner. This was madness. But he hadn't. He had stuck by her and asked to marry her and removed every piece of armour he had and she had-

"And then they laughed at him," Aesop finished, watching her down her beer and poured her another. "They laughed at the lion when he returned and bade him to do there worst. And the lion, he could no longer fight so he left, dying of starvation and a broken heart."

Her eyes were burning. _Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit_. What had she done? Why couldn't she just have kept the stupid ring? Why was she always to clumsy to hold onto anything precious?

 _Killian._

Regina grabbed her the next moment, the Queen dragging her drunk mother and a shaky Emma back home that night.

The town was quiet, too quiet and it made Emma's skin itch and her legs restless. It made her want to flee the town and set fire to his stupid boat.

It's the fourth Friday after Killian's departure and she just wants Gideon to show. Weariness clings to her bones like loneliness does to her soul and she's gotten twitchy, she knows. She carries her gun again and the quiet echoes to loud in her mind. Leaving room for not good enough. Never good enough. Always your fault. Pushing everyone away.

Breaking his heart.

So the fourth Friday, Emma gets wasted because at this point, even passing out would be a welcome reprieve. She stays long past her mother and Regina, not caring about their concerned glances. Aesop pours her shot after shot without reprimand. Patrons funnel in and out of the bar, one drunk stranger hits on Emma only to earn a bloody nose.

By the time the bar winds down, Emma is finally, blissfully, numb. And rather unsteady.

She stumbles out of the chair and Aesop is suddenly beside her with those dark eyes. "Why don't I help you home Emma? It won't due to have the Saviour falling into a ditch."

She doesn't agree but can't argue until the blessedly frigid night air hits her. They're walking a block when Emma feels a strange tingle.

It's not the jerky pull of three weeks without sleep or the leaden weight of her whole body when she thinks of Hook. It's not even the foggy slosh of alcohol in her veins. In fact, she's pretty sure that if the first three weren't in play, she would have noticed much sooner.

It's the prickling at the back of her neck. The half-drowned survivor instinct coming in and warning _Danger! Danger!_ Her foot stumbles and she catches herself, Aesop one step behind her and reaching out.

Adrenaline rouses her a little. And what kind of bartender tells people sad stories, anyway? Every bar she's ever been at, they listen and pour shots and generally try to cheer people up because sad drunks often lead to troublesome drunks. And how many of those were actually his tales? She hadn't read many fables, but his seemed to revolve more around morals and less around tragic love stories if she recalled rightly.

And why the hell did she always feel worse, slower, heavier, whenever she left even if she hadn't drank that much?

And where the hell had Aesop the magic mixologist come from and where- _where the fuck was Gideon_?

Pieces are falling together too quickly for her intoxicated mind to keep up but she whirls out of his grasp when he tries to help her stand. A swift kind of furry fills her bones, makes her light enough to turn and hiss, "You-"

Just as Gideon drives the sword through her side.


	3. Chapter 3

It happens like this:

Nemo does indeed find a seller of kraken blood and Killian did have enough gold hidden in various compartments on his person to purchase it. Legally. Sort of.

(The man's hands are as twitchy as a flies and he smells rather like gutter as his moustache crinkles again. "I shall next accept a drop less than six pence."

"Sir-" It is laughable that Nemo, decked out in his shining captain's suit with his solid person should be addressing this weasel of a man as such. "I have already told you, we cannot go higher than three pence. I do not believe this object is so far utilized as to justify the upcharge on its price."

The seller laughs, rubbing his grimy hand on the purple tunic that doesn't quite cover his spilling belly. "Not so utilized, hah! Kraken blood is well worth its weight in gold, what with all the trouble to go through procuring it."

A lesser man would have sighed. Nemo simply breaths. "Still sir, it has come to my attention that you do not have an alternative buyer. Surely three pence today is worth-"

The tiny man turns his round nose up, huffing in a ridiculous manner. "-And I would remind you captain that I said-"

To the surprise of everyone, Jasmine loses her cool first. Or more accurately, her movements are half a second faster than Hook's when she slams her first on the table so hard it jars the seller in his jar, making him wobble precariously and send his grabby hands to the table.

"I am the Princess of Agrabah," Every note of her voice is a royal decree, a beautiful, unforgiving song. "And your greed is currently undermining my quest. You will settle at our price or face the consequences."

The room goes still: Killian, Ariel, and Nemo waiting to see if the threat will cowl the squirmy idiot they're dealing with. The man's pale eyes go wide with fright for a moment, looking Jasmine's clothing up and down as if to appraise the veracity of her statement. Suddenly, his brow draws and a dark little grin turns on his fat lips.

"Ah, but if you are a princess, you should be able to double my asking price. If not, then I am dealing with a fraud. Twelve pence now, and not a silver less!"

Jasmine draws back, her eyes wide at his greed at the same movement Hook moves.

"Killian-" Nemo tries but he's a pirate on a mission and this weasel is between him and his True Love.

There's a hook caressing the underside of the fool's fat neck in less than a second, pointed side pressing down hard enough to draw a line of blood as Killian smirked, circling the man in an obviously predatorial move. His boots clip on the stone as he squeezes round the chair, eyes dark and full of menace.

"See here lad," He leans down to breath into the rancid air of the little seller, one canine poking out. "I fear I've been a pirate too long to have much patience. The name's Hook. Captain Hook. Ever heard of me?"

The merchant whimpers, his throat bobbing into the sharp metal and causing more blood to drip down into the false satin of his shirt.

Killian grins. Now, they're getting somewhere. In all his years, rats like these can only be dealt with through fear. "Good, I see that you have. Now, I desire the kraken blood and these lovely folks here-"

Hook gestured pointedly to Nemo and the two princesses behind him, keeping his gaze trained on his prey. "-asked me not to kill you. We're friends, so I agreed. However, I find that I am running out of time so I suggest a proposition for you. You do know what a proposition is, don't you, snake?"

Nod.

"Grand." He kept his appendage trailing across the man's throat in a mockery of a caress. "Now here are your options. You can either, take the good Captain's money and sell him the blood or I'll-"

He drew out the vowels, waiting until the sweat beading of the man's brow made it down between his chest. "-Kill you, pay you nothing, and take it myself. What do you say chap?"

He patted the man on the back, forcing the metal close enough to cut off his windpipe for a moment. The coward hissed and struggled, tears streaming from his eyes as he nodded feebly.

Killian stepped back, releasing the filth and turning his back on the party. "Good. Captain, I will see you on your vessel."

He strode out, his blood humming with fury and adrenaline in equal parts, making quick strides out of the hovel towards the docked Nautilus when he heard a tiny pitter behind him.

Sod it. The mermaid had probably come to lecture him. He was in no mood to receive a lecture on violence. That retch was keeping him from Emma. Emma who he still hadn't heard from despite his long, numerous, increasingly desperate messages through the shell. Emma, with a madman after her.

His pulse runs hotter at the thought at he grits his teeth to keep from screaming, speaking without turning around. The girl doesn't deserve his ire. Not truly. "If you're here to comment on my form I fear that I feel no compunction for treating that rat exactly as he-"

"Killian," Jasmine's clear tone cuts to him, forcing his head back automatically to see the princess has followed him out of the shake, her head cocked curiously to him. Those quick, dark eyes seem to survey him for a moment before she nods towards his hook.

"Make sure you clean that well. You wouldn't want that creature's blood anywhere near you."

It takes a second for him to catch him, glancing at dirty line of read smeared on his hook from the greedy merchant before looking back up at Jasmine, catching her grim nod.

"Aye Jasmine. I'll be sure to.")

When Nemo returns, measuring it out and informing the crew with a hard expression that they need a titch more, Hook slams the door on his way out below deck.

* * *

His fingers go to the shell he chained around his neck shortly after it was passed to him. He rests it there, afraid to miss a message from her. He's spoke to it every night, yelled to her, sang to her. Still, silence.

"Swan-love, I wish you would let me know that you hear me. I know I made a muck of things, but...please sweetheart, I'm so worried. I'm closer to come back to you. We just need a bit more-It's...If you're still angry I understand but I love you and I need to know you are well. Just...Emma, fuck love you need to be alright."

She's strong. She's got her family. He repeats to himself, over and over again, desperation poisoning his blood each time he was met with silence. Nothing has happened to her.

But he thinks of the twisted smirk in Gideon's gaze and the way her hand shook when visions kept her awake. He remembers how she only has one Charming now and while the Queen is a formidable ally-

He's terrified, is what he is. Every night that goes by without response, his dread that something has happened to her grows until he feels nearly intoxicated with the feeling, his nerves severed and burning at every turn. His sight narrowed and distorted, half-distracted thoughts.

Because that was the story of Killian Jones: always too late to save those he loved. His mother to illness. Liam to stubbornness. Milah to vengeance.

And Swan? Some dark force is cackling at him now, stealing away the very light of his soul.

He feels the tears running off his chin before he registers them, angrily swiping and breathing heavily to force them to stop. He can't give up hope. Can't. Not when they are so close. So close to him returning home. To her.

He wakes in the morning and the air of the main cabin is stagnant when he enters. Nemo is writing more letters, a stocky man sending them through a telescoping device, looking for more sellers. Ariel has gone out, through the hatch to commune with the sea creatures, search out rumours of another kraken. However, there a clear sense of deflation, of loss. No one knows where to turn, where they could possibly find another mythical beast.

And Hook, Hook goes back to his journals and charting the maps, pouring over thousands of words just for a hint at one of the creatures. He clutches the shell unconsciously, a talisman against the hopelessness of the situation as they all plod forward, unsure of the direction they take.

As days fall over another, they stop leaving him alone, taking shifts. Liam asks about his namesake (and oh, how that conversation tore). Ariel relates tales of the deep sea. Jasmine often just sits quietly, fingers weaving in-and-out in some complicated design to create a beautiful wrap of deep blues and turquoise, gem-like greens.

("What if we're too late?" He hasn't uttered the fear before, given life to the words with his breath.

Her fingers stop on the handheld loom. "The Saviour is powerful, Killian."

"Of course she is but what if…" He can't say it again. Won't. The very thought makes him nauseous.

Jasmine turns to him, black eyes unfathomable. "Then you return, you protect whoever's left as she would have done. You defeat Gideon."

"Vengeance?"

"Justice.")

Time begins to crawl by and speed up, the way it only does when impatiently waiting for something. Letters go unanswered. The mermaid returns to ship later and later each day, searching desperately for longer hours. The submarine is filled with a kind of nervous energy, a static charge that has them sniping at one another and soothing wounds at each turn. It's drowning him and Killian is unsure if he will survive it. He's finally clocked in the time.

It's been a month since he last saw her, held her, heard her. A month since the shine in her eyes burnt into his soul and it's folding in on itself, the ache swallowing more and more of the man of him.

This must be the price of true love, he thinks in the long hours one night. The cost of how complete it is to feel together: how utterly isolated it is when they are alone.

The shell yields no sound and Killian Jones is straining now, for a sound, for a whisper, for a single shred of evidence to feed his hope.

It comes on the early hours of the fourth Friday after their separation from the most unlikely of sources. Ariel comes on deck early, breathless and bright eyed and followed by-

Poseidon.

The king regards Killian with a stately nod, the corpse of a blue-tentacled beast folded over one broad shoulder.

"Payment, for returning my daughter to me."

A better man would tell him that there was no payment needed, that it was his own wrong he had righted. A better man would thank the King for answering a far-off call and risking his own life to kill the beast. A better man would probably do anything other than lunge for the body and hull it physically to the beaker, bleeding it out with his hook into the container until it lets out a hiss and the lid slams shut, a little button at the top finally, finally lighting green.

But Hook is not a better man, he is a desperate one and that is exactly what he does.

He's going home.

* * *

At first, there is only pain. A kind of blossoming, all-consuming pain that whites out her vision and chokes out a scream. It radiates upwards from her abdomen, flooding her senses until even her toes burn.

Reality slams back down on Emma and she gasps, gaze fixated on the blade piercing through her, stretching the soft skin of her belly and cutting straight through the leather like butter and shit that hurts like a motherfucker. She inhales unsteadily, unsure how she can with the metal spearing her so. She hears a distant murmur, the edge of Gideon's dark cloak in the corner of her eyes.

"...easy. That's the fault of 'True Love' isn't it? I knew once I took him away you'd fall back into your old habits. Little orphan Emma Swan, all alone again."

It takes her long moments to register, her hearing catching in and out in waves but her chin clicks upwards when she processes his words, ice replacing the pain in her veins. "Wait-what, you-where is Hook? What did you do to him?"

Gideon laughs, his hand loosely grasping the hilt of the sword as his eyes glitter. "Oh yes, I was the one who sent the pirate away. Your magic, you see, is connected to love. I needed to drain it, to weaken you first, so I whisked the moron away and fed you those potions to syphon the rest. And you drank them, crying at my table like the silly. little. girl. you are."

Oh god. Her thoughts speed up, adrenaline jolting. Hook. Killian. He didn't leave. Fuck, why did she think he would leave? He never...it was Gideon. He was out there somewhere-lost and possibly hurt and-

He pulls the sword back out of her abdomen and Emma can't hold back her cry, hand instinctively covering the wound as she pants loudly, doubled over in agony.

"You're love for the pirate made you weak, Saviour. And now, now you will pay the price."

The metal glints in the moonlight and shit-she thinks. No. Henry. She can't leave him again. Her parents, they're still cursed. She needs to help them. Hook. Hook is lost and he'll never know now, never know how she forgave him, forgives him and loves him and-

"EMMA!" Fuck she's hallucinating. That's never a good sign. She needs to roll away, dodge the blow. She needs to stem the blood loss that's already making her hear things. Voices that sound a lot like-

"SWAN! Emma-"

Her gaze flickers in an unconscious move, heart recognizes what the brain denied because there, running fiercely towards them on the docks in her father, gun pointed in one hand and next to him in a long, leather coat and those stupid jeans with the little silver knitting on the front pocket-

Killian.

She blinks, trying to break the image but it remains, the two men getting closer and the wood is rattling beneath their feet and they are screaming for her, alive and real and here.

Above her, Gideon halts for a moment, swearing. "Idiots. Congrats Saviour, you get to live just long enough for me to kill the man you love and your father."

His hand moved, the angry orange buzz of magic appearing in his and he's going to do it. He's going to send a fireball or a blast or something at them and he's going to kill them.

David. Hook.

And suddenly the pain falls away because Emma is no longer hurt or dizzy or sad.

She's _fucking furious._

And she forgets to even try to draw her magic, forgets that he's some sort of arch evil sorcerer and has cut her own once already because he took Killian away from her and is trying to murder him. So without another thought in her head, Emma Swan rears back and slams her fist into his face.

* * *

Killian practically sprints off submarine the moment the Nautilus lands, sack forgotten back in the chamber and coat flapping against the breeze as he runs, surveying the docks for any sign of-

"Emma!" He doesn't really expect her to be there, waiting for him to come ashore when she has no idea where he had gone but some part of his heart simply hoped that she would appear when he called.

"Hook?" It's not Emma that answers, the slow, measured gait of the other man as he stands at a wary distance, looking up and down at him in half-disbelief and half something else.

David. Oh bloody fuck. He knows he owes the man so much. Too much than he can ever repay, and he'll let him gut him with his own hook if he pleases but right now Swan is in danger.

"David-" He steps forward, his stomach lurching when she sees his friend taking a slight step back in response. So Killian stops moving, making a peaceful wave of his hand. "Look I know-oh, sod it Dave. I'm sure that you've heard about what I've done and you deserve...I deserve whatever punishment you deem fit to give me but right now Emma's in danger. As soon as I know she's alright we can have it out, I promise just please-"

David peers at him for a long moment, his brow furrowed and shifting his weight on his feet. Just as Killian is about to simply go find her on his own, Charming speaks. "You left her. Why would you-"

A stone sinks down his throat. He knew. He knew what it would seem like, what it would look like. Running out in the night without even leaving a blasted note right after their fight. However, some part of him had prayed to every deity he never believed in that Emma would know he would never, could never fathom abandoning her. But her father's eyes told the story. Dave hadn't been this distrustful of him since Neverland, one hand still thumbing the gun in its holster.

Hook swallowed. "I didn't. Dave, I swear I didn't. It was Belle's babe-Gideon. I-I was leaving a note to go find that man who made Emma proud again but then your wife told me a story and I was coming home. I was going back and I threw the note out but Gideon trapped us. He sent the Nautilus to another realm and I have spent every single minute searching for a way back. Bloody hell mate, you know I couldn't leave her any more than you could abandon your wife."

His eyes softened slightly but he held his stance, searching for the veracity in the pirate's words. There was a faint patter of shoes and Ariel poked her bright red head around to them, smiling softly and standing in between the two men.

"He's telling the truth, you know." She nodded towards Charming. "Plus you know, he's kinda Grumpy without her."

He could kiss the bloody mermaid. Brilliant creature.

He heard Jasmine and some crew members yell out their sounds of agreement and David sighed heavily, finally releasing his grip on the pistol and nodding in response. "Alright then, but what's this about Emma being in danger. She was out with Snow and Regina, they just came back to swift shifts not to long ago."

Killian scrambled for those tendrils of relief. "Call her. Now, we need to warn her. That monster has some plan hatching for her."

His tone seems to spook the prince into action and he whipped out his cellphone, the numbers beeping loudly in the quiet.

"You've reached Emma Swan. If this is a life or death emergency please call 911. For anything else, you know what to do-beep."

Hook stopped breathing. "Call her again. Dave, for fuck's sake, call her again."

Clearly growing agitated, the man redialed the number and when the beep went off he began speaking into the phone. "Emma it's dad-"

Hook tuned the rest of the message out, the sense of wrongness flooding his system. He was too late. Something was happening.

David frowned, clicking the phone shut and turning back to the pirate. "This doesn't mean-"

"Split up," He was the captain now, giving orders to the crew of the Nautilus as they appeared, no room for brokering in his tone. "Find her."

He gave a final nod to Dave who slipped into quick step behind them, letting the rush of their breathing fill the space for a time.

"Henry believed."

Killian nearly misses a step but keeps pushing, refusing to stop searching for a sight of blonde hair and green eyes even as he focuses half his attention on David's words.

"That you didn't abandon her. He's been pouting for weeks about it." And even as the words tumble out of his mouth in a half-apology Killian feels his chest swell and bust, his gate increasing.

He'll be damned if he can't save his family this time.

* * *

Gideon reels back, sorcerer supreme or not, he's clearly never been in a bar fight and Emma knows how to throw a punch. The sword clatters and she presses up, swinging her other arm to catch him in the middle, winding him despite the heavy fold of his cloak with the sheer fury of her blows.

She's done. Done with something in this damn town trying to kill them. Done with being separated by realms and curses and fucking death itself. And if this kid thinks he can come in here and magic her pirate away, well, he's clearly never met Emma Swan.

He staggers back, trying to draw magic back into his palms but she's an onslaught of rapid punches and sloppy anger. Each blow lands: the shoulder, a cheekbone, the sound of a nose cracking in the air. Emma's swinging for all she's worth, a hit for every time life has come between her and the man she loves.

He's here.

The man is crying out, hands instinctively trying to protect his head so Emma kicks him, managing to bowl him over and leaning strong, drawing in huge lungfuls of air with her hands still balled. There is nothing artful about her hits, all raw emotion and graceless arcs. She stops when she can barely draw breath, the boy still laid out in front of her. Her hearing is fuzzy and the she feels her fingers going numb as her vision blurs but she's terrified that he's going to get up and he wants to hurt Hook and he can't-

There's a gentle pressure at her shoulders and Emma opens her eyes, unaware they were shut. Her father is bending over Gideon's whimpering form, gun trained under his head and gruff commands being issued. There's a warmth beside her, a familiar voice coming into focus even as she registers the comforting weight on her shoulder.

"Swan, talk to me love. Can you heal it? Sweetheart, please say something." Too-blue eyes, unruly dark hair. That reassuring solidness at her back.

Killian. Killian is here.

That single thought crashes with her adrenaline spike and Emma stumbles, knees giving out as Hook swears above her and catches her by her shoulders. The pressure radiates to her belly and she cries out as pain lances through her again. She feels him beside her, lowering to the ground with her and suddenly she's staring up the fuzzy fixture of stars, a familiar head bobbing in her sights. Her hand lifts, needing to touch him to ascertain his realness. She anchors her fingers in the thick strands of his hair, a smile blooming on her face despite the way each lift of her chest is starting to burn like a bitch.

"You're here…"

* * *

His heart catches in his throat the moment he catches sight of her, her hair pulled back like a banner, sword piercing through her middle. He freezes, every muscle pulled taut and every thought obliterated at the sight because-

He's holding Milah, cold and woundless as her eyes slide shut one final time. Liam, his veins turned black and gasping for air even as his blood can travel no further. His mother, a foggy memory of a gentle hand brushing through his hair one last time before stilling forever. Swan-her visions come to life, metal slicing through the soft, warm skin-

"Emma!" David's shouts rouse him from his stupor, her father pounding on the beams now to get to his daughter. "Emma!"

He shakes himself, legs moving before he wakes, propelling him to the fight taking place before his eyes. He's too far away. Can't get there fast enough.

 _Emma. Emma. Emma._

She decks him, the blow sending Gideon tumbling back and then again. Striking with a sort of raw force he's experienced for himself long ago and Killian feels an absurd sort of pride surge up among the swill of desperation, fear, and fury.

 _That's my lass._

He can see the whites of Gideon's eyes when she stops, doubled over and taking deep, shuddering breaths, hand clutching her side. Without speaking, he sidles to her just as David hones in on the sorcerer, the willingness for violence apparent in his tone as he keeps the gun trained on him.

And then he's touching her. For the first time in a month, he can feel her against him and it makes her cry out.

"Motherfucker, that stings like a bitch!" And despite the situation, the cursing makes his heart flutter with relief. If she's still got a mouth on her, she's probably still alright.

Emma hops awkwardly, trying to bear her weight on her uninjured side until she falls into Killian, who's already moved to catch her with a delicate arm. The impact of her slight frame is an easy burden but he lowers them both carefully to the ground, eyeing the blood he can see seeping over the pale hand she has clutching the wound. As gingerly as he can, he rolls her over and onto his lap so her head rest on his knees.

She blinks up at him, green eyes meeting his for the first time in far too long and despite the glassiness of pain he sees, her face pulls into a tired sort of smile. "Hey sailor."

Hook gives a bark in response, half-sob and half-laugh, thumb soothing sweaty strands of her hair back from her pale face. "Hey beautiful. Miss me?"

Emma chuckles back before grimacing, the movement making her ache all over again. "Killian I didn't-I'm sorry I should have known-"

He hushes her, using his brace to secure her back before gently prying the torn jacket open with his hand, lifting her hand covering it into his so he can assess the wound.

"Can you heal it, like you did for me in Camelot?"

She shakes her head, panting. "No-the brat, he did something...something to my magic."

Emma winces at the movement, a whine tugging out of her throat and buried in his belly as she turns her face into him. The sound makes his throat catch and pulse hammer, but the sword went straight through her cleanly, missing anything vital. It's still bleeding which is the only real concern and a shudder goes through his spine when he realizes what he will have to do to stop it.

He lets out a deep breath, trying to tear his mind away from where his fingers are now sticky red with her lifeflow. Just like-

No. Never again.

He exhales one more time before shrugging out of his jacket and thumbing down her neck in warning. "Sorry Swan, but this is going to sting a bit."

She grumbles into his flesh, hand clenching on his jacket moments before he presses down on the open wound with the leather, forcing the bleeding to stop.

He feels her shout against his stomach, the noise raising the hair at the back of his neck even as she squirms weakly by his side, panting. He hears sirens in the distance, and looks up to David. He's got his gun still trained on the sorcerer, phone in hand with what must be the ambulance driver, but his lip is trembling as he looks at his daughter, writhing in pain in his lap. Killian nods slowly to him, mouthing words above her head as he feels her start to still.

'She'll be alright'.

The sirens draw closer and he keeps pressure on the wound even as he hums above Emma, using his hook to trail designs he hopes to be soothing down her arm. Her breathing begins to even out as she starts to succumb to weariness, her clench on his jacket loosening fractionally. The noise seems to rouse her fractionally because she rubs her nose against his hip and slurs out,

"Send the damn truck away. I can walk."

A burst of laughter frees itself from his lungs, followed by the heavy weight of moisture on his face as he shakes his head down at her, slipping his brace under her to lift as smoothly as he can. She swears at the shift, and he can't resist bending down to kiss the top of her head as he loads her into the gurney, ignoring the fat tears spending down his chin in favour of keeping hold of her hand when she grabs at him in confusion.

Killian turns to one of the medics, who nods at him with a soft brown smile. "It's fine if you ride along. It'll be better if she keeps calm anyways."

He peers over his shoulder briefly to see that in addition to the ambulance, David's call had yielded both Regina and Zelena, a nasty expression on her face he can't feel too sorry about. Assured that the prince is safe with Gideon, he clamors on board and kneels over Swan, whose lashes are fluttering against the sharp light and sudden movement of various machines and medics.

He squeezes her hand lightly, keeping out of the way of the medics as best he can while refusing to pull away from her, hook smoothing out strands of blonde as he murmurs into her ear. "It's alright love. You were bloody brilliant and you're safe now. I'm here. Your father is here. You can let go now Swan."

Her squirming stops just as they pull up to the hospital and Killian has a single, dreadful moment where he thinks it's too late. The stillness overcome her body a sign her soul has departed and-

He must make a face, because the same kind medic who let him board squeezes his shoulder and points to a beeping machine with strange mountainous lines crossing it.

"That's her heartbeat. She's fine, just passed out." He claps him one last time before going to assist his co-workers who are opening the doors and wheeling Swan out of the truck, where Whale is waiting in the street under the unnaturally bright light, taking charge in a firm voice.

And as he follows them in, Killian thinks that at least the worst is over.

He's not quite right, on that account.

* * *

A pain in his shin rouses Killian from his sleep, forcing his muscles to contract and a sharp exhale from him as he gathers his surroundings. He's in bed. Their bed in their house. The dark twilight of the room means it's still early in the morrow. He waits, senses reaching out to detect what dark threat has thrown him from slumber this time but there are no steps from the creaky stairs, no hiss of magic raking across his skin like knives.

His shin gets knocked again and Killian bites his cheek to keep from hissing when he realizes it's Emma's foot that has knocked him, from sleep as well apparently.

As stealthily as he can, Killian leans back in the ridiculous softness of their comforter, stretching the lines of his body slightly away from hers even ensuring that he can still feel her nearness. He pokes his head out, bleary eyed to lean over.

The pale lines of her back are hidden by the blanket but as his vision adjusts to the semi-darkness, he can make out the wings of her shoulders in the twilight. The pool of her hair, spreading like a living thing across pillows and tickling his nose. She's turned away from him, head still ducked towards her pillow.

She shifts again, her legs kicking out and causing the sheets to rustle. A soft whine follows.

He's suddenly much more awake. "Swan?"

She doesn't respond, but makes another bitten-off noise from deep in her throat, a keening sort of thing that has Killian leaning over her in a breath. "Emma?"

His arm touches her shoulder lightly and he feels her vibrating under his touch, skin slick with perspiration. He can make out the furrow of her brow, he downward twist of her mouth as she keens again, her body jumping reflexively.

The silver sheen of her cheeks.

 _Bloody damnation,_ she's crying.

"Emma!" He says louder, no longer whispering as he grasps her firmly and tugs her from her side toward him. "Love, wake up. It's only a dream. Tis a dream, lass."

She comes to as he gets her on her back, eyes snapping open and gasping for air, her arms flailing beneath the blankets as her head turns right and left, wild and searching before landing on his face and then she stills-

And her expression breaks. The storm in her eyes fades and moisture gathers instead as she bites her lip despite the wobbling chin, reaching for him through the heaviness of the tangled cloth. "Hook."

His heart snaps as sharply as a chord, reverberating through his own being until he feels himself trembling alongside her, hastily stripping the truly astounding number of covers they lay under to free Emma and gather her in his arms, laying her head to rest in the crook of his elbow while his hand makes long, soothing motions down her back.

"Shh, Swan. I'm here. It's alright, love. It's alright."

He feels her agony like a physical thing, piercing his very marrow as she cries quietly against his chest, her small hands digging into the hair on his chest. He waits with her, knows better than to draw her to talk when she can barely keep enough air for her chest not rise normally.

It's not the first nightmare either of them have had since he returned from the Nautilus.

They haven't really talked about everything yet. He was too unwilling to disturb the tenuous balance between them while she recovered, both from the wound and from the siphoning of her powers by the bloody git. There have been murmured apologies and harsh cries for forgiveness, his explanation about the note and the submarine, hers about Aseop and the bar nights; but the conversation about what will occur: whether they will still wed, her awoken fears in the wake of his departure, the way he clings to her whenever the images pluck into his mind-

The sword. The battle. Gideon.

He doesn't think he'll ever burn the image of her, impaled and bleeding out on the docks from the inside of his eyelids.

But as gray light begins to creep through their windows, her movements cease, hammering heart slowing in increments but body remaining tense, legs and hands latched onto him; he can't quite bring himself to confront her now when she's so vulnerable in his grasp.

He knows without asking, what thought keeps taking her, his thoughts wild with a need to comfort, to cure even as he keeps the running his hand through the divots of her spine, murmuring nonsense into her ear. It hurts him, to think that she had believed he'd abandoned her after everything but he tries to push past it. To remind himself that it's not really about the measure of who he is as a man but rather salt in old wounds of a little girl who never quite believed in a home. So he swallows and searches, trying to find some tangible way to reassure Emma that he is here and he is not bloody going anywhere without her.

"Do you think it would help to get married?" Killian nearly cringes as soon as the question is out because he has no idea if she even still wants to be wed to the man who killed her grandfather. _Bloody fucking wanker._

Emma gives a tired little sigh, shaking her head against him. "No. I want...I want to get married because it's what we want; not some backwards way of you trying to prove that you won't leave me."

Again. It's unsaid but shouts loudly enough in his mind that even the confirmation that he may one day get to be her husband isn't enough to make him grin. "Swan, I'm pretty sure the ring is indicative of the fact that I very much do want to marry you."

She's not wrong, he knows. He doesn't want their matrimony to simply be a way to soothe her fears, but he's not quite sure what else to do to. "I know. I know you do. I...I want to marry you to. And I don't-Killian, I don't actually think you're going to run off or anything."

He can practically hear her gathering her thoughts, collecting her strength and so he simply opens his palm to rub circles into her lower back, hoping the touch grounds her in some small way. "Do the notes help?"

He's begun to leave them everywhere since her first night terror. Whenever he's obliged to leave her side, he's sure to take the most outlandishly colourful little note he can find and scrawl a message on her for her to find.

("At the docks to check on my Mistress, love. See you in an two hours."

"Appointment with Archie in at 2:15. If I'm not back by 4, I fear I may have killed the cricket. He's getting rather glib about my drinking habits."

"Going on patrol with your father while you recover. That means Rest, Emma. If I find you attempted to fix that bloody grass-eating machine, I'll take it apart when I return. You had a whole in your side, let it heal. Your father agrees with me and adds that we have no compunction about putting you under a sleeping curse for your protection."

"Babysitting the little prince. Come join me when you wake. It's 7 now."

"The lad and I are off the Granny's. Apparently I'm getting a lecture on self-preservation. If we're not back by 12, he's buried me in the backyard for all the trouble I've caused.")

"They do," She smiles slightly, thinking of the way Henry teased him for his 'girly cursive'.

"Henry kept telling me, you know."

A soft smile quirks on his lips and he nods against the top of her head. "Aye love, your father told me the lad...Emma, you must know that I love the lad as well. I would never bloody well leave either of you as long as I could help it."

Her fingers tense again and he's worried he's said the wrong thing when he voice comes out hoarse. "But that's the thing isn't it. I know...Okay, you've done everything you could to stay by my side even when I was a royal bitch and I think even before you came back I knew that something was wrong but all the shit that happened in my life...and it was just so perfect, you and this house and our fucked up little family. It seemed too good to be true so something had to go wrong, but even then I knew that you wouldn't abandon me. You won't."

She has to stop at the last word, a choked-down cry bubbling forth and Killian keens, trying to tug her impossibly closer to keep those fragile pieces together. His lips run up and down her temple in a constant line, licking occasionally at the salt he finds left behind. "Swan…"

"No, let me finish." She heaves, fighting against her own rising tide of emotions. "I know that, but Killian you've been taken from me so many times, even against your will. You died. And there's always another stupid portal and my parents are True Love and look at what happened to them-they're separated, perhaps forever. And Robin was obliterated and Zelena had to kill hers because he was a sociopath and…"

Emma leans up, eyes shining to catch his gaze and her fingers trace his features, running down the high cheekbones and curling around his ear, so frightened in that moment that he has the insane urge to lock her in the Jolly and sail off, keep her away from anything that would harm this woman.

"...and what if that's the price of True Love? What if it means that we keep getting separated over and over and I just, I _can'_ t."

Her voice breaks and tears begin again. Killian hears his own chest groan at the sight and he leans down to kiss her savagely, doing his damndest to crawl into her lungs, become the blood that hums through her veins and the hair that tickles her arms until they can never again be parted. She's panting when they finally part, still struggling to compose herself and he whimpers, folding her into him even as he becomes aware that he's started to lose the battle against tears himself. "We won't. I will not stand for it. I don't care if I have to rip this Dark Fairy's wings off myself and stow away with you and the lad to Neverland itself. We will have a life together, Emma. Please, don't give up on us."

He has no idea what he'll do if she does, if she retreats after being poked one time too many and trades love in for the false idol of loneliness again. He spent years breaking down those walls and he understands, he really does, why she wants them again. How so much ache would make her want to run away and hide to lick her wounds but he loves her. He loves lazy Saturdays when they spend half the day in bed before crawling down in their sleep clothes to make breakfast for the lad.

(His nose twitches as he stumbles down the stairs, staring at his mother in what is undoubtedly an old pirate shirt.

"You two are gross."

His mother grins at him then, a mischievous smirk on her face that makes him want to take a step back, swallowing it down with teenaged stubbornness. He saved all their asses in Isaac's world. He will not back down now.

"Well if you're jealous Henry..." Emma smirks, the knowing look Hook shots him as he cuts off his exit making him instantly regret standing firm a moment ago.

His mother lunges, getting an elbow around his neck and smothering his face in kisses with loud smacking sounds while Hook laughs behind him, still blockading the way out of the kitchen as he squirms.

"Mom! Mom stop, you're embarrassing!")

He loves early mornings when she invades the bathroom he's in, making a mess with the toothpaste and hair a riot before rinsing and kissing him in sleepy, sloppy movements. He loves when he's been out on at the Rabbit Hole and returns home, home to find her curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, fallen asleep. He loves the way she blushes when he takes a particular interest into one of her articles of clothing

("Why haven't you worn this little number love?" Killian thumbs the sleek black dress with interest, seemingly nonchalant at having invaded her side of the closet.

Emma hides her grin, shrugging the white sweater over her bra with her back turned to him and shrugs. "Where? To work so I can get magical sheep blood all over it or something?"

She watches him out of the corner of her eye, sees his gaze dart to and fro from her form to the dress, the keen interest in his face that lets her know that his keen imagination is painting it on her form.

He has to clear his throat before he speaks and she has to smother a cackle of victory. Really, he's too easy sometimes. "No, of course not to work then. Perhaps...perhaps you and I can take a quiet evening sometime, go somewhere that this might be appropriate attire-"

Now it's Killian's turn to look away from her as she stares at the red flushing down the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. Really, the idiot whispered about the taste of her cunt in a public booth at Granny's last week and he blushes when he-what? Asks her out on a date? Dork.

Adorable dork. But Still.

He finally meets her eye with a sheepish expression, still touching the dress with a hopeful tilt of his lips and she softens, crossing the room to wrap her arms around him, linking her hands at his belly.

"Yeah okay. I guess we can.")

or the way she laughs, her entire body in the sound, when Henry trounces him at one game or another. He loves her walls, aye, but he loves the open, bright woman he's coaxed out of them as well and losing her seems nigh unbearable.

She doesn't reply and he doesn't stop holding her, searching for the words that will ease her wounded heart, soothe the lost girl back to sleep. (Because he loves her too, his little lost girl with her clumsy grasp who wears her heart on her sleeve.)

"Swan," He nudges her chin up so he can meet her eyes, kissing each lid briefly in worship. "I know you face an uncertain future. But there is one thing I want you to be certain of. That I will always, always be by your side."

He kisses her then, a soft thing until she nips his bottom lip and tugs him closer before pulling away and smiling wetly at him. "Promise?"

The words echo between them and he nods, kisses her nose, her cheek, the dimple of her chin. Soft, adoring caresses. "Yes. There is no portal, no realm, and no magic that can separate us for long. I love you Emma, and I will always fight to get back to you. You just have to trust me. Can you do that, Saviour?"

She nods vigorously and loops her arms around his neck, kissing him back tenderly before whispering in his ear. "I love you too, you know. I'm just...sometimes I just-"

"It's terrifying," He cuts her off, sliding lower, nuzzling into her neck now and kissing down her jawbone. "What you do to me. How much I love you, want you, need you. You've unmoored me, my love. But,"

He leans back, needing to watch her again, to let her know that he knows, that their hearts do beat as one. "It's worth it, Emma. Loving you is worth every heartache and every sacrifice I have ever and will ever have to make. So what do you say, Swan?"

Her hand shakes a little as she cards it through his hair but her smile is a thing of beauty. "I suppose I'll keep you then."

He laughs into her neck, pressing silly, open-mouthed kisses down her chest that rapidly escalate when her nails rake down his bare abdomen, heating him from the inside. She takes him in her hand, running fingers teasingly up his shaft once, twice before tracing the vein and then pumping steadily.

It feels good. Too good after their long separation and tearful confessions and delayed gratification while she was healing-so Killian is quickly pushing her wrists away, panting against her shoulder. "Swan, you must stop. Please, I need to be inside you."

"Yes," She exhales breathlessly.

He checks quickly for her wetness, growling when he finds it, and burying himself inside her without preamble, drawing a blessed moan from them both at the sensation of being together again.

"This," She pants in his ear as he begins to move, circling his hips slowly inside her. "This is worth it. This feeling when you- _oh fuck-_ when you're inside me it's like-fuck, Killian."

He nods against her collar, licking a wet stripe to her pulse. "Aye love. I never want to leave. Just want to stay here forever, buried in my treasure. Oh bloody hell, Emma you're so perfect."

His cock slides easily in her, spreading her open until she clenches tight, trying to keep him from drawing out until he slams back home. Her legs circle his hips, ankles locking around them until he's touching deep, touching the depths inside her and she's biting on her tongue to keep from screaming.

He draws his head up, biting on the fleshy lobe of her ear before whispering into it, "I vow...to remain by your side as long as you'll have me, Emma Swan."

She's breathless and nearly giggly with feeling as she turns her cheek, breathing hotly against his earring in retaliation. "In sickness and in health.." She dissolves into laughter and he gives a particularly well-aimed thrust in retaliation that has her moaning.

"I vow to start simply shooting whatever bloody demons plague this town on sight." His rhythm picks up, faltering after so long without her. He moves his weight to his arm, finger sliding to where they're joined, earning him a hiccup of breath.

Emma bites at him for the smirk as his fingers circle her clit. "I vow...to at least give you a handie every night."

He halts right then, slid deep and spearing her on his cock, watching her flush deepens even as he frowns. "A hand-Bloody hell, Swan. You make it sound like work. Is this. Not to. Your liking?" He punctuates each word with a dirty grind that has her rearing up and whining for him to move.

His canine peeks out at the sight of her wanting and wet for him, a feral thing. "Let me try to fix that for you Swan. I vow...to fuck you every night until even Red blushes at the sight of us."

Emma glares at him through one eye, flicking his forehead. "Yeah buddy you say that now when we're all agile and shit. Let's see how that libido lasts when we're gray and wrinkly."

She expects him to protest but a thunderstuck, boyish look crosses his face. "Gray and wrinkly then Swan, are you in this for the long haul?"

There's a hint of shyness in the question and it makes her nod instantly, giving a little flex of her hips with a grin. "I vow to still want to fuck you senseless even when your ridiculous eyebrows turn silver."

He laughs then, a great, booming then before sliding down and kissed her hotly, opening her mouth and sliding his tongue in before picking up the rhythm again, fingers stroking her. "I vow to thirst for your cunt even after time takes my teeth from me.."

He gives her a nip for good measure she she chuckles even as he feels her muscles coiling. "Yeah, well I vow to continuously try to poison you with sugar for as many years as we live."

"I vow to keep you well stocked in those awful poptarts you are so fond of until they bring you to early end."

"I vow to never throw up on your ship no matter how much we drink."

"I vow to try and embarrass the lad every chance I get."

"Thanks, you can give the sex talk then."

"Why love," He gasps, pinching the swollen bud of nerves as he feels her clamp down around him, her arms trembling with the force of her orgasm. "Think I do a good enough job to be a teacher?"

He waits for her to come down before resuming, fucking her to prolong her high while searching for his in the tight clasp of her body. She leans up and licks his earring into her mouth, sending a bolt of heat into his already tight cock "I vow to take a vacation with you when this all is done, just you and me naked in the middle of the goddamn ocean."

The image of her bare-arsed in the sunlight on the deck of his ship does him in, and Killian comes with a long groan, collapsing onto her waiting form and spilling inside her. He spends a long moment gathering his thoughts, his vision blurred at the edges from his high.

"I vow," He murmurs, tickling her with his nose and meeting her sated expression with his own. "To love you for all of our days, Emma Swan."

She smiles openly at that, rubbing her thumb against his cheek before giving him a devilish wink. "I vow to just punch the next person who even thinks the word 'portal'."

Killian chuckles at that, kissing between her breasts as sleep begins to pull them under again.

"Hey Killian?"

"Hmmm, love?"

"Did we just get married?" Her voice is a warm rush in the dark and the word makes his head spin with joy.

"I am a Captain. Technically I can marry us."

"Okay, so we're married." She says it so finally, so happily that he has to kiss her. So he does.

Her green eyes glow in the dark and he imagines his own are crinkled with that kind of honest joy. "Aye, wife."

She pushes her nose against his cheek at the term, hugging him close. "Hey husband,"

"Yes love?"

"Let's not tell my parents, okay?"

And Killian's laughter guides them both to sleep in the morning light.

But truly, Snow White did throw a princess of a fit when she discovered that her plans for a royal wedding had been shattered.


End file.
